A cold sensation dripped down Gira’s spine, his eyes shot open, and his body instinctually slammed him against the nearby wall.

  “Eugh…” Gira looked around, confused by the strange feeling.

  “Weary Coarseblood. Weary boy…”

  It was the Onryō Sombra from the dressing room; it was offering its cold mechanical hand to the startled Gira, who absentmindedly took it.

  “That really spooked me…”

  “Apologies, your match had ended but you failed to return to the dressing room.” It tilted its head, the red veils flowing down like synthetic hair. “I found you slumped against the floor and was about to perform a vitals check.”

  “Ohhh, well, I’m fine… I think.” Gira mumbled, embracing himself.

  “Are you not feeling well?”

  “Huh? What?” Gira straightened out and weakly smiled. “I-I’m fine, just tired.”

  The Sombra clasped its hands together pensively. “Acknowledged, well if there’s nothing bothering you, please follow me to the dressing room.”

  Gira nodded, trailing behind the mechanoid. He put a hand up to his head; there was a narrow, stinging pain that was subtly echoing in the recess of his mind. It wasn’t pain, but it was a discomfort that made him shudder slightly. Trying his best to stray his thoughts away from the odd sensation, he found himself mesmerized by the Sombras’ movements.

  The mechanoid was gracefully gliding across the floor, its crimson robes millimeters off the carpeted floor.

  Gira leaned down behind the mechanoid, checking the gap. Hmmm…

  “Is everything alright?” It spun around the red veils, bouncing through the air in a hypnotic rhythm.

  Gira straightened out, “Yup! Well… Question: how’s everything floating?”

  “That’s an intriguing question. Would you prefer the simple or complex response?”

  “Simple—oh and short!” Gira answered.

  The two reached the dressing room.

  “The simple answer is concentrated Prima Esoterica, Esdrogical matter, or, simply put, Kyyr.”

  Gira gave the mechanoid an annoyed look. “Okay, you just said, like, 4 made-up words that didn’t really explain much.”

  The mechanoid handed Gira the clothes he was wearing earlier. “Then would you prefer a more complex response?”

  Gira took the clothes, wobbling on a single foot as he shoved his foot through his undergarments. “Complex, but like not too complex, kind of like a general explanation. You know?”

  The mechanoid nodded gracefully, “Think of Kyyr as a language with infinite letters. There are multiple complicated ways one can arrange these letters into words with meaning. These buildings we stand on and my Synthecorr are inscribed with a set baseline of words that mirror the concept of flight and a number of other parameters.”

  Gira processed the words as he slipped his head through his shirt, “But I thought you needed to be alive to use Kyyr?”

  “That is the mystery of Kyyr. Ask yourself: What makes you more alive than me? What is the soul? There is also the esoteric nature of Kyyr to contemplate—why are certain materials, locations, and biologically inert entities considered to be alive?”

  “Uhhh, you’re asking the wrong person…” Gira answered shyly as the mechanoid hovered pensively.

  “Excuse my inquiries. As to why the structure floats, it is because of the material the structure has been created from. In the strange world of the Translates, there are simply odd places where oddities occur. The Skolas Sky Metropolis was created using Bubble Core Ore, which is a cute name for a strange mineral that doesn’t interact properly with the core logic of our reality. It does not float endlessly into the sky or sink to the ground—like a child’s dream—it simply floats.”

  Gira’s weary eyes glimmered at the thought of what kind of place such an odd mineral would come from. The kind of life that would exist in reaches of skybound mountains, hanging forests, and under the shadows of the whimsical rock. The thought of the alien world filled him with a soothing reprieve.

  The mechanoid reached into its veil and pulled a lollipop out. “I wish to return this to you.”

  “Thank you.” Gira took the lollipop. It was wrapped in a simple blue wrapper that contrasted with the red decorations of the dressing room. He looked up at the mechanoid with a new level of comfort. “I’ve been wondering since earlier—who’s Zayto Onryō?”

  The mechanoid perked up, “Based on the blood sample submitted by Morray Hassle, you are the mysterious descendant of our beloved Zayto Onryō.”

  Gira put the lollipop in his pocket. “Is this Zayto guy the Scarlet Haunt? You guys called me his child too.”

  “Correct. Zayto Onryō, the Scarlet Haunt—better known as Savagrios—are the same individual. They’re also the Onryō’s graceful favorite. He was like a God to us.”

  “A god…” Gira’s mind clung to those words; they felt odd. “Well, thanks for telling me all this stuff, but I think I should get going. I’m a little hungry after using up all that energy.”

  The mechanoid nodded, guiding Gira back to the main lobby and to the elevator.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “It was a pleasure seeing our old master live through you, young Coarseblood.” The mechanoid bowed down.

  “You—you’re welcome?” Gira said with an awkward smile.

  Ding.

  The elevator doors slid open, letting Gira into its glassy insides. But the doors lingered. The mechanoid remained bowing down in awkward silence. Gira’s weak smile lingered as he frantically pressed a random button over and over. It felt like forever before the doors slid shut, finally letting Gira exhale.

  He leaned against the back wall, turning slightly and glancing at the distant sea beyond the glass. The shimmering blue against the delightful clear day was beautiful. So far away, and yet so personally connected to him for that brief moment of solace.

  He turned to face the sea and leaned down and held onto his knees, cradling himself in his shaky grip. His hand brushed tenderly against his own body as he felt a shrill sensation fill him.

  He cried.

  Why?

  He wasn’t hurt any longer. His wounds had been mended and he had survived the duel.

  Yet—he cried.

  All alone, watching the distant sea glitter in the sunlight.

  Unaware, he cried because he had to.

  Across the shimmering sea, under the snow and shadow of the Nókktald. Lucas let out a sigh of relief. Pressing his head back against his now chilled pillow, he stared at the dark ceiling, its pastel blue paint faintly illuminated by the shifting lights of the city beyond. Conflicted, but happy to have seen his friend overcome such a dangerous duel.

  Delíah had returned to the sofa in the corner of the room, her long, snow-white gown tucked beneath her legs as she adjusted her crystalcomm. She replayed the fight from different angles, her eyes scanning through the frames of miserable violence. “Could you introduce us?” she asked coldly, her eyes locked on the crimson form of the Coarseblood.

  Lucas gave her a nasty glare. “Fat chance, witch.”

  Delíah glanced at Lucas with an amused look. “Jealousy is very unattractive…”

  “Shut up.” He grumbled.

  Delíah’s cold features melted away as she came across the intriguing frame that held the golden gaze of Vaal. “I hope I get to meet him soon~?,” she said with disjointed glee that didn’t match her odd demeanor.

  Lucas sighed but shared the sentiment.

  Morray and Xizu watched as the steam faded away, the once pristine arena a wet red mess. The Servinae had begun to awkwardly spill out of the arena, some areas congested by the presence of Hollows retrieving the bleeding figures of Borren’s victims.

  Down below in the arena, a group of Hollows had also rushed Borren out of the arena and towards some unknown. He was alive, but miserably defeated.

  Morray seemed dissatisfied with the duel, downing a bunch of honey-sweet pills and letting his stern face melt away under their sweet denial.

  Xizu, on the other hand, seemed relieved, messaging Holly to share with her the results.

  “Morrie? Xuxu?”

  An excited voice shouted at them from further up the arena.

  The two towering siblings looked around confused until they spotted a cheery, short-haired girl waving at them.

  “Aria?!” Xizu exclaimed.

  “Pest…” Morray grumbled, only to get smacked on the back of the head by Xizu.

  “Hey! She’s your niece; be nice!”

  Morray pulled away, mumbling something under his breath.

  After the crowds had mostly spilled out of the arena, Xizu and Morray met with a nervous Mera and overly excited Aria.

  “That was an insane match, huh? Kinda gross but so exciting!” Aria said, bouncing with contrasting energy that left Mera looking like a ghostly apparition.

  Morray didn’t really respond, choosing to look away disinterested.

  “What’s up with uncle Morrie?” Aria asked, leaning into Xizu but still being loud enough so that Morray could obviously still hear her.

  Xizu shook her head. “I’m guessing he’s just tense because of the match. I mean—I’m pretty shocked myself. Borren was pretty brutal out there, not to mention Gira’s Kyyr felt…” her word petered off as the presence of that Kyyr sent a chill down her back.

  “Awesome, right?! That guy’s got some pretty gnarly vibes; I mean, talk about spooky! Total mood changer! Poor Mera almost passed out at the end there!”

  Mera was pale as a ghost and tightly holding onto her small black bag but nodded vehemently as soon as she realized they were addressing her.

  Xizu smiled tenderly, “Well, do you two want to join us on our hunt for Gira? Apparently Serfet couldn’t find him after the match and is currently having a breakdown in the Onryō dressing room.”

  “Count us in!” Aria said, wrapping her arm around a petrified Mera, who nodded along.

  Morray cleared his throat. “When you find him, tell him congrats on my behalf.”

  “You’re leaving?” Xizu asked.

  Morray sighed, “There were some unfortunate developments I have to attend to.” He gave his sister a small smile. “I’m happy I got to see Holly and Alice… we’ll have rooms ready for you at the manor; be there before it gets dark.”

  Xizu nodded. “Thank you…” she said, giving her brother a hug.

  Morray turned to Mera. “Mera, you and Serfet are on Gira duty for the time being. Make sure to regroup at the Manor before nightfall—it’s going to be a messy night.”

  Mera straightened up. “Yes, sir.”

  “It was good seeing you, Aria—I hope you didn’t abandon work just to have some fun.”

  Aria looked away in the guiltiest way possible. “Me? Do what? Abandon work? Uncle, you grumpy old dragon, I would never abandon my super important and totally not mind-numbing job as a glorified security guard.”

  “I’ll call Captain Margo when I get the chance.” Morray said dryly.

  Aria’s life drained from her. “WAIT! I just wanted to meet my stepbrother! Come on! I just wanted to meet the little guy!” She exclaimed, grabbing onto her uncle’s uniform.

  “Yeah... yeah...” Morray said, prying her off. “Actually. I just got an idea.”

  “Ah—what kind of idea?” Aria said nervously.

  “With Borren out of commission, a slot just opened up at the manor’s security squad section.” He gave Aria a rather perverse smile.

  “Ugh… yay…” she hesitantly cheered, “I get to work again…” Aria mumbled, all her excitement drained.

  Morray smiled, “We’ll catch up later, little pest.”

  Aria waved her uncle away.

  Xizu chuckled, “How have you been, sweetie?”

  “The same… You know me.”

  Xizu smiled softly, “You know Alice has been dying to talk to you.”

  Aria looked away, ashamed. “Ah—I’m sorry I keep forgetting to call!”

  “Or message us.” Xizu added in a dead tone.

  Aria slunk away defeated. “Welp, I get to catch up now, isn’t that great, Xuxu!” she said, turning back to her with a big smile.

  “Well, we have to find them first. They’re down on the entertainment floor right now.”

  “Yay! Bonding time!” Aria exclaimed.

  Mera patiently smiled in the back, reacting faintly to a bzzzt from her crystalcomm. She had been added into a group chat titled “Gira Care.” The only other members being Serfet and the titular Gira.

  A message popped up: “IVE LOOKED EVERYWHERE PLEASE MERA TELL ME YOUVE SEEN HIM.”

  It was from a very clearly distraught Serfet.

  She replied, “I’m sorry, I’m currently leaving the arena. I’ll be joining you on the search! Let’s do our best!” she sent it with a fight-on sticker.

  And with that, the search for Gira began.

  But, not far from M?ry’Plu, beneath the pillowy white canopy of the Gilded Forest, something stirred below the roots of the largest trees. Vaal’s vile Kyyr, once confined to the blood-soaked walls of the Cetarro Sky-Scraper had spilled out and down into the forest, curling through the heavy underbrush. Its foul form spread into the roots and caves of the forest, its stench rousing the foul things that lay there in wait.

  Spiraling tongues blossomed from sinewy membranes as three distinct figures in particular rose from the shadows of the golden forest. Their long snouts ripped open to reveal a serrated mess of teeth and erupting tongues. They had no visible eyes—their heads covered in black, veiny, spiraling growths that silhouetted houndish maws. The three entities convened with one another as they wishfully savored the Kyyr of their desired prey in alien anticipation for nightfall.

  The abyss would feast that night.